


For Arthur

by Emachinescat



Series: Sesquipedalian [13]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>visceral, adj.<br/>(VIH-suh-ruhl)<br/>Instinctive, as a gut reaction</p><p>macabre, adj.<br/>(muh-KAHB)<br/>Gruesome; horrifying; having death as a subject</p><p>incontrovertible, adj.<br/>(ihn-kahn-truh-VER-tih-buhl)<br/>Undeniable; indisputable; not open to question</p><p>Merlin is seriously injured while protecting Arthur, throwing himself into danger without a second thought to himself. "Merlin didn't even register what he was doing until the dagger was in his chest."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dagger

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own, for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

He had watched as the assassin had drawn the dagger stealthily from his cloak. He had seen the flash of gold as the weapon's speed and path was enhanced with magic. He had seen the glint of the blade as it hurtled through the air, spinning in a deadly arc for Arthur's chest. There hadn't been time to think. No time to contemplate what he could do. No noble realization that this might very well be the day he died for his prince. No warning, no time, no thought.

Just action.

He had done what he had to do. And he hadn't hesitated. Saving Arthur wasn't something he had to contemplate anymore. It was elemental, instinctual. Just like his magic. The magic he hadn't even had time to use in the split second that he had to save Arthur. The magic that he could only hope would keep him alive now.

He flung himself forward, shoving Arthur's body as hard as he could, pushing him to the floor, shielding his friend, the deadly blade slicing easily through his flesh.

At first he felt nothing. He heard nothing. He watched with increasingly blurred vision as Arthur's mouth opened in a soundless roar and dove for the assassin, taking him by surprise and plunging his sword into his heart. And then the world tilted, spinning sickeningly as Merlin tried to figure out how the floor had grown so much closer in such a short amount of time and why his upper body was hanging limply from Arthur's arms. His mind was fuzzy, his ears buzzing, and there was something warm and uncomfortable soaking through his shirt. He wondered blearily if Arthur had thrown water on him again.

And then the pain started – a small trickle of uncomfortable agitation turned into unbearable agony as the shock of being stabbed wore off. He choked, coughing, and something bubbled out of his mouth, dribbling down his chin, tickling his neck. Above the humming in his ears and the fire screaming rabidly in his chest, Merlin was vaguely aware of someone shouting his name, yelling at him, pleading with him, demanding  _something_  of him. Merlin didn't know what it was and his vision had gone red. Whatever they wanted didn't seem all that important anymore.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and caught a quick glimpse of a halo of faces looming over him. He thought he recognized the old man, and the dark-skinned girl, maybe even the pale angel who looked on, her dark hair so long it almost tickled his face. He glanced up and saw the blonde man, recognition flooding over him. Arthur! He had never seen Arthur looked this terrified – what had happened? He wondered if someone had died. He tried to say something, to comfort his friend and master, but more blood clogged his throat and he began to tremble.

More faces, faces he didn't know at all, with silver helmets upon their heads, appeared and suddenly his world twisted yet again as he was airborne. He felt himself moving – but he  _wasn't_ moving – and he heard voices and shouts and doors slamming and people running and someone kept saying his name…

And then…

There was nothing at all.


	2. Life or Death

Arthur watched as the assassin – disguised as a page to a visiting nobleman – hefted the lightweight, thin, deadly dagger and sent it in a surefire path for Arthur's heart with one tiny flick of his wrist. There was no time to move – there wasn't even any time to blink. Arthur's mind flitted, unbidden, to the day when the witch who had impersonated Lady Helen had thrown the knife at him. He hadn't been able to move – frozen in shock and fear. This time, he would have moved had he had time, but the throw was so sudden, so unexpected.

Before the dagger could reach its target – in that split second between the throw and the hit – there was a flurry of blue and red and brown. Before Arthur could comprehend what had happened, Merlin was swaying on his feet in front of him, a dagger embedded in his thin chest.

Arthur roared and lunged at the man, killing him before he had a chance to withdraw any other hidden weapons. In the next instant he was at Merlin's side, catching his friend as he sunk to the ground, a dagger in his stomach and pain written on his pale face. He was gasping for breath, air catching in his throat and Arthur saw that dark red blood was staining his blue shirt black around the hilt of the offending weapon.

Vaguely Arthur heard screaming, swords being drawn, his father yelling something, and footsteps as people – Arthur didn't even care who they were at this point – congregated around him and the unconscious, dying boy in his arms.  _Merlin_.

Arthur couldn't think, he couldn't move, he could barely breathe. No. This was a dream, a nightmare. There was no way that Merlin had taken a dagger for Arthur. Merlin was  _not_  bleeding out faster than Arthur could staunch the flow, he was  _not_ struggling for each tiny, ragged breath of air, and there was most certainly  _not_ a knife embedded in his thin chest. Merlin was  _not_  dying.

Arthur held his servant, his friend, tightly in his arms, not willing to let go. He could hear the rumble of voices around him, some saying his name. Someone yelled for the guards. A hand fell on his shoulder and Gaius's voice, worn and haggard, sighed in his ear like the groan of a dying willow. "Sire… we have to take him to my chambers."

Arthur could barely comprehend the situation. Shock was taking over, causing him to act irrationally, out of character. He shook his head obstinately, pulling Merlin tighter, not willing to give him up.  _Merlin had sacrificed his life for him…_

And then someone was forcibly but gently prying Merlin from his arms and he finally let him go, saying Merlin's name all the while. He didn't know if Merlin was alive or dead, he didn't know if he would live or die, all Arthur knew was that he didn't want his friend to be taken from him – by Death or the guards that had lifted him away. It was all too surreal, this couldn't be happening…

Arthur clambered to his feet, Merlin's blood on his hands from where he had tried to stop the bleeding, spinning on everyone who had been crowded around him – Gwen, Morgana, his father who did  _not_  look particularly happy – and told them to stay, that  _he_  would go with Gaius but no one else because the physician needed room to work. He could barely hear the words coming out of his own mouth and blearily saw that Gwen and Morgana were both protesting, wanting to be with Merlin. Arthur didn't relent. "Later," he said in a tone that booked no argument. And then he spun on his heel, ignoring their calls, paying no attention to his father's eyes boring into his back. He caught up with the guards, Gaius, and Merlin and the rest of the walk to the physician's quarters went by in a daze.

* * *

Merlin was lying pale and motionless on the patient table, the knife still embedded in his chest and his breathing was shallow but steady. The guards had gone, leaving only Gaius and Arthur to tend for Merlin. The door creaked open and Arthur found himself glaring at Gwen and Morgana as the hurried inside, faces etched with concern as they slowly, almost hesitantly, approached the injured man. "I thought I told you two to  _wait_. Gaius needs all the room he can get."

Morgana took a moment to make a face at Arthur. "Oh, grow up, Arthur – Gwen and I both know that what Gaius needs is people to help." She ignored the prince and turned to Gwen. "Gwen, can you go fetch some water from the well?" Gwen nodded and disappeared out the door. Arthur moved to Merlin's side, across the table from Gaius.

"Will he be alright?"

Gaius was clearly struggling to keep a firm grip on his unfazed doctor façade as he examined the man that had become more than a son to him. He didn't answer and Arthur couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. Instead, the physician announced, "I need to remove the dagger. I won't be able to tell if the damage is fatal until the knife is out of his chest." He glanced around. "Can someone fetch me some water?"

Gwen bustled back into the room right at that moment, a bucket of water in her hands. "Here you go, Gaius. Do you need anything else?"

Gaius shook his head distractedly. "Just room and quiet to concentrate."

Arthur couldn't help but send Morgana a slightly triumphant look. He knew he was being a bit childish but he was in shock, annoyed at how frantic he was becoming over his servant (even though said servant had saved his life), and just wanting Merlin to get better. Morgana glared stonily at him, silently chiding him for his stupid behavior, and Arthur's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry."

Morgana smiled wanly, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder and casting a sad look in Merlin's direction. "So am I, Arthur."

The two girls left while Arthur struggled to keep his emotions in check. The way Morgana had said she was sorry… it was as if she was already mourning his death. Cringing as he looked over to see the pale and bloody servant, Arthur realized that all too soon, he might be doing the same.

* * *

Later that night, Arthur sat at Merlin's bedside, bloodshot blue eyes refusing to close for more than the millisecond required for blinking. People had been in and out of Gaius's chambers all evening – some of the knights, inquiring as to Merlin's health; Morgana and Gwen, bringing flowers and teary eyes; even his father – although Uther had just come by to try and order Arthur to stop hovering over a mere servant, an order that Arthur had outright refused. Merlin had  _saved his life_. Merlin hadn't just saved his life but he had jumped in front of a dagger to do so. He wasn't going to leave Merlin.

* * *

_What is it with Merlin wanting to protect me? That's how he became my servant in the first place. He saved my life from Lady Helen – well, the woman who had killed her and took her place. Now that I think about it, that was a very similar situation. A knife flying through the air at my chest… I couldn't move… Merlin pushing me out of the way… Except this time, Merlin wasn't quick enough. He willingly took a dagger for me._

_Why me?_

_I'm not even all that nice to him – I call him names and laugh at him and make him do demeaning chores. I throw things at him and embarrass him in front of the knights. But I'm not always terrible to him, am I? We're… friends… of a sort, aren't we?_

_I'd like to think we are. I know that we aren't allowed to be but he's risked his life to save mine and I his. We've gone on quests together, him always tagging along even though he doesn't have armor. We joke around and I let him get away with a lot more than any other master. I mean... we_ are _friends. Right?_

 _Not that I necessarily deserve to be his friend. Not while he's lying there in front of me, face paler than the scratchy sheet beneath his limp, almost lifeless body, eyes closed, bandaged chest moving up and down slowly, painfully… it's bloodstained, just like the shirt we Gaius and I had to cut off of him. Just like_ my _shirt that I have yet to change out of._

 _How could this have happened? Why did Merlin do this? Doesn't he realize that_ his _life is important too?_

 _And if – no,_ when _, I have to believe that – he wakes, how will I ever repay him?_

* * *

Gaius had to admit, it was a miracle that no vital organs or arteries had been punctured by the dagger. Merlin's lungs and heart remained intact and there seemed to be no internal bleeding. Three days had passed since Merlin had thrown himself in the pathway of the knife and Gaius still couldn't get the terrible image of the dagger embedding itself into Merlin's flesh out of his mind.

Arthur had barely left Merlin's side since the incident. Gaius had to admit that was a bit surprising – Merlin had been hurt before but Arthur had never been this fixated on staying with him before. Then again, Merlin  _had_  leapt in front of a dagger for Arthur. That was an act that could never be undone, something final, often fatal, and it brought into clear relief how much Arthur meant to Merlin and it seemed to have opened Arthur's eyes as well. This time, it hadn't been a case of drinking poison that Arthur could hunt down a cure for. This time, Merlin had truly placed himself in the arms of fate and destiny, knowing all the while that there would be no easy fix for his pain.

Merlin was truly a remarkable young man and Gaius could only hope and pray that his magic would help to guide him through the injury. Gaius couldn't imagine life without Merlin, despite the fact that he had lived most of his life without the boy. Now he was an irreplaceable fixture in the old physician's life and if Merlin died, Gaius would never –  _ever_  – be the same again.

Gaius smiled slightly as he watched Arthur who was sitting by Merlin's bedside talking in a low, soothing voice. Arthur had kept up a stream of one-sided conversation most of the time he had been here, so much so that his voice had become quite hoarse. Gaius frowned – something seemed a bit different about the tone of Arthur's voice this time, though. Almost as if he expected an answer.

"Merlin? Are you okay?  _Merlin?_ Merlin!" The last 'Merlin' was filled with joy and Gaius rushed forward, hardly daring to believe it, when he saw that Merlin had indeed opened his eyes and was staring wearily up at them.

"Ar…?" Merlin didn't even get the prince's name out before he went back under but it was enough to assure the physician and prince that he was indeed fighting to recover.

He might just pull through this, after all.


	3. The Talk

When Merlin finally woke up it was to Arthur sitting on a stool by his bed, eyelids drooped about a quarter of the way over his eyes, looking dazed and half asleep. His hair was a bit disheveled and he looked like he was on the brink of passing out. Merlin wasn't sure what was going on, why the prince was in Gaius's chambers looking so haggard (there was no other word for it), or why his chest felt like it was on fire and a huge weight was bearing down on it.

He blinked and the world came into clearer focus. "Ar…thur?" he breathed, desperate for some answers. He had no idea what was going on and frankly, it scared him a little.

The prince's reaction was unexpected. He practically flew from the stool, knocking it over in the process, and yelled, "Merlin!"

Merlin winced at the volume of Arthur's cry and the prince actually looked apologetic. What was up with that? "Wa…ter…" He could barely get his words past the dry lump in his throat. He strained to remember what had happened but once again came up with nothing. Arthur nodded and moved over to the table to get a cup of water. He returned to Merlin's side, being careful of his aching torso, and helped him sit up, pressing the cup to his lips so he could drink. Merlin coughed when the cool liquid first hit his system and a sharp spasm rocked his chest.

"Merlin?" Arthur sounded uncertain.

The servant managed a wan smile as he leaned back on his pillows. "Thanks." His voice was much stronger now. He glanced around. "What happened? Where's Gaius?"

Arthur seemed surprised. "You don't remember?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "How can I remember where Gaius is when I've just woken up?"

Arthur snorted. "Not that, you idiot – I was talking about what happened. You don't remember what happened?"

Merlin chuckled and held back a gasp at pain at the sudden movement to his chest. He must have gotten hurt pretty badly and he could vaguely remember pain, lots of faces, crimson blood, and someone saying his name, but the details hadn't come back to him yet. "No, I don't – not fully. That's why I asked you."

Arthur smiled. "Makes sense." An almost awkward silence hung between master and servant as Arthur put the stool right side up and sat heavily upon it. Merlin shifted slightly and winced. "So…" he began eventually. "Care to enlighten me?"

He was grinning that disarming half-smile of his but Arthur didn't seem to notice. For the first time Merlin realized that this hadn't been just some blow to the head or nick of a sword. Something  _bad_ had happened, something that Arthur apparently hadn't come to terms with fully yet. "Arthur…" This time his voice was softer, gentler. "What happened?"

His voice hoarse and a bit strained, Arthur answered slowly, "You took a dagger in the chest for me."

Merlin's eyes widened at the words and suddenly images flowed through his head, memories cascading over him, engulfing him in what had happened. That page, he had been an assassin. He had thrown a knife at Arthur, trying to kill him. And Merlin had… why, he  _had_  jumped in front of the dagger, hadn't he? He had saved Arthur's life – again – but this time he had almost lost his own in the process. Merlin smiled but this time it was a little off as he was lost in his dark thoughts. "Dunno what I was thinking," he joked, realizing afterwards that this was almost exactly what Will had said after taking an arrow for Arthur… and Will… Will hadn't survived.

Merlin pushed the agonizing memory of his childhood best friend's violent death out of his mind. He couldn't afford to think of such things now, especially given what had just happened. For heaven's sake, Arthur looked like he was about to fall apart. At Merlin's words, however, Arthur's eyes lit up and Merlin was a bit wary of the angry gleam that overtook the blue pools. "Neither do I, _Mer_ lin," Arthur stated dryly. "Neither do I."

Merlin shifted under the glare and suddenly felt the need for a little protection from his irritated master – he wasn't sure what had caused Arthur's abrupt change in mood but he could tell that it had something to do with him (although how Arthur could blame him when he'd been out cold, Merlin didn't know, but trust Arthur to figure something out). "Erm… where's Gaius?" the warlock asked, hoping that his mentor would spring out of the shadows ready to defend his ward from the prince's exasperation. But no such luck.

"He's out," Arthur replied simply, still staring Merlin down.

Merlin puckered his lips a bit, agitated. "Out  _where_?"

Arthur glowered. "Does it really matter, Merlin? He's  _not_  here and we  _are_  going to talk."

Merlin pouted. "What could there possibly be to talk about?"

Arthur stared. "You  _seriously_  did not just ask me that." He stood, paced back and forth a few times, rubbed his stubble-covered jaw, and plopped back down right where he'd been. "Let's see… we could start with you, oh,  _I don't know_ , throwing yourself in front of a dagger!"

Merlin huffed. "To save  _your_  royal backside!"

Arthur stood again, eyes wide. "What exactly do you think you are,  _Mer_ lin? Do you think you're a knight?"

Merlin lowered his eyes. "Of course I'm not a knight – they're thick, aren't they?"

But Arthur wasn't about to be distracted by Merlin's "humor." "Shut up, Merlin."

"What? You asked me a question!"

"I said shut up!" This time, Merlin hastily clamped his lips together, the tone his master was using suggesting that this was  _not_  the time to be making jokes. Arthur was seriously upset about something and apparently Merlin's attempts to lighten the mood were only making things worse. So Merlin restrained the urge to call Arthur a prat and gritted his teeth as he tried and failed to sit up more. He hissed with pain and Arthur immediately came to his side, gently taking his arm and sitting him upright. His eyes were a bit softer as he regarded his hurting manservant. "You alright?"

Merlin nodded jerkily, trying his hardest to keep the pinpricks of tears out of his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Eventually the pain in his chest subsided and he opened his eyes, sweat beading his brow, but not nearly as uncomfortable as he had been just moments ago. "Yeah," he managed to say. "I'm fine."

Arthur snorted. "Of course you are." He looked Merlin up and down one more time, double-checking that he was indeed okay (Merlin was notorious for trying to hide his pain, even when it came down to his own health) and nodded briefly as if confirming it to himself. He then continued with his rant. "No, Merlin, you are  _not_  a knight, you're not a soldier, you're not even a mere palace guard! You are a  _servant!_ "

"I think we've established that already," Merlin snapped irritably. He wished Arthur would just get to the point; he was tired and the pain was getting worse although he wasn't about to let Arthur know that.

Completely ignoring the interruption, Arthur pressed on. "So  _why_  is it that you think that it's your _job_  to protect me?"

Merlin set his jaw stubbornly. "Because it  _is_  my job, Arthur. It is every citizen's job to defend their prince."

Arthur growled. "Not at the cost of their own lives!"

Merlin couldn't hold back a brief bitter smile. "Your father would disagree."

"This has nothing to do with my father!" Arthur retaliated hotly. "This has to do with  _you!_ "

Merlin stuck his chin out defiantly. "I did what was  _right_."

Arthur let out an explosive breath of air. "Damn it, Merlin, why can't you get it through your thick head? I don't  _need_ you to try and protect me, and I don't  _want_  you as a bodyguard. You're a servant. You never should have drunk that poisoned wine for me last year, and you should  _not_  have jumped in front of that knife."

Merlin rolled his eyes dramatically. "So you  _want_  me to let you die?"

"I would have moved!" Arthur's voice was a bit higher than normal as he tried to defend himself.

"Right, because you were moving  _so_  fast when I ran over to you."

"This isn't funny, Merlin!" Arthur really sounded angry – and not just angry, but scared. Apparently Merlin's near death experience had shaken the prince up more than it had Merlin. Then again, the warlock was used to putting his life on the line for Arthur on a near daily basis, so while this was traumatic and painful, it wasn't affecting him nearly as much as it was Arthur. Merlin almost smiled, realizing how much their relationship had grown and changed since last year. Arthur would definitely deny it later on, but he was being a friend to Merlin, even in the midst of his lecture. Still, he felt Arthur was being a bit ridiculous in insisting Merlin shouldn't have saved his life.

"I'm not joking!" Merlin spat incredulously. "You weren't moving, Arthur. I don't know if you were scared—"

"I don't  _get_  scared!"

"—or if the sorcerer put some sort of freezing spell on you, but the fact is you weren't going to move. And I'm sorry if you have a death wish,  _Sire_ , but I certainly wasn't just going to stand by and watch you  _die_  when I could save you."

"I didn't need saving!" Arthur protested weakly although Merlin could see that was just his pride talking; his eyes said that he knew just as well as Merlin that if the servant hadn't intervened, Arthur would be injured or worse right now.

Merlin let out a short bark of laughter and ignored the burst of pain blossoming from his wound. "You know, Arthur, maybe I shouldn't have saved you. Who would have thought you'd have been such a complete  _prat_  about it?"

Merlin's words were joking but his tone wasn't. Arthur regarded him for a few moments and Merlin knew that Arthur could tell he was hurt. It wasn't just because Arthur couldn't admit he needed help but because he seemed so ungrateful… If he only knew what Merlin did for him, risked for him on a daily basis…

Arthur's response surprised him. "You're right, Merlin."

The warlock couldn't help but joke. "What was that, Arthur? I didn't hear that."

"Shut up, idiot." A large bit of warmth returned to the room at Arthur's automatic response. "I wasn't going to move. But that doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have taken that dagger for me!"

"Oh, so you're so much of a prat that your pride makes you want to die rather than have someone else help you?"

Arthur's face was hurt, his eyes resigned. "Do you really think that of me, Merlin?"

Merlin fidgeted, wincing as he did so. "Yes! Maybe…" He sighed. "No. I'm sorry."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't care about that, Merlin. I just want to know why you seem to think it's perfectly acceptable for you to give your life for mine."

And then everything came into clear focus. Arthur was angry at Merlin not because he seemed to think it was his job to protect the prince (which it was, not that Arthur could know that), but because Merlin had nearly  _died_  in the process. He was scared, worried, angry, because Merlin had put himself in harm's way to save his life.

"Arthur?" Arthur looked up. "I'm sorry."

Arthur chuckled weakly. "Why?"

"I'm sorry I put you through this. I'm sorry I said you didn't care. And I'm sorry…"

He hesitated and Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Sorry for what?"

"And I'm sorry that if something like this happens ever again, that I'll put you through it again."

"Merlin—"

"Arthur, I'm serious. If it comes down to a choice between my life and yours, there's no contest. Because you may be an egotistical, obnoxious prat, but you're also the prince and your life is worth a thousand of mine."

"That's not true—"

"But it is. I'm sorry, Arthur, but if the choice has to be made, I will always choose you over me. It's not up for debate. I know you think I'm just a servant and that I have no obligation to risk my life for you, but you're wrong. And it's not because it's my duty as a servant, but my duty as a friend." Arthur's mouth opened but Merlin interrupted again; he was on a roll now. "You will be a great king someday, Arthur – you'll have to be, you're the only option they've got –" Arthur chuckled lightly. "—but if you die, how are you going to be king? Don't think I did it just for you, Arthur. Because I certainly did do it for you, but I also did it for Camelot. So don't go getting a big – or should I say, big _ger_  – head!"

Arthur stared at the servant for a few moments before responding. "You've got your mind set on thinking you have to protect me, don't you?"

Merlin nodded. "I know you're the great Prince Prat and you don't think you need protection, but obviously that's not always the case. And if it's in my power to help you, well… you'll just have to deal with it. This is one thing that's never going to change. It's indisputable."

Arthur grinned and arched an eyebrow. "What a big word, Merlin!" He sighed jokingly. "If only you knew what it means."

Merlin pretended to be offended. "Of course I do – it means that as long as I'm around, no sorcerer will ever get the best of you because they'll have to get through me first!"

Arthur laughed. "Just keep telling yourself that, Merlin. Heaven help us all if the fate of Camelot ever rests upon your shoulders."

Merlin smirked at the irony.  _Oh, Arthur, if only you knew…_

He sighed and felt his eyelids drooping as exhaustion – both physical and emotional – from the confrontation with Arthur began to catch up to him. Arthur noticed and helped him lie back down. Merlin smiled sleepily up at the prince and muttered, "How long have you been here?"

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "On and off as much as I could over the past two days since… it happened."

Merlin shifted, grimaced, and then grinned. "Never knew you cared so much, Arthur."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't."

"If you say so, Arthur."

"I do!"

"Good," Merlin muttered blearily, the pain in his chest dimming as consciousness began to fade. He really needed to sleep…

He was just about to slip over the fine line between reality and dreams when he heard Arthur's voice, this time much gentler. "Merlin?"

"Mmm?" He couldn't find the energy to verbally respond.

"Thank you."

A peaceful smile ghosted over Merlin's face as he drifted into sleep.  _You're welcome, Arthur._

Perhaps Arthur wasn't that much of a prat, after all.


End file.
